


are things still burning?

by sixturns



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 06:19:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6742684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixturns/pseuds/sixturns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>when your kid travels back in time to visit you</p>
            </blockquote>





	are things still burning?

Clarke officially decides that her day is a shitfest when she slices her finger open with a piece of paper. She might be exaggerating, but she’s studying to be a doctor and paper cuts fucking hurt, okay? Clarke knows what she’s talking about.

She pushes away from her spot at the front desk of Ark Memorial Hospital, shuffling to the back room and rummaging through the first-aid kit. Temp work is tedious, but Clarke’s hoping it’ll earn her some good will when she’s looking for a place to do her residency.

Smoothing a pink band-aid over her cut, Clarke turns when she hears the front door open. It’s a girl, fairly young-looking. As she approaches the front desk, Clarke wonders if she’s seen her before.

“Hi!” Clarke says in her chipper customer service voice. It’s very different from her other voices, mostly because she doesn’t sound like she desperately wants her desk and all of the attached paperwork to go up in flames. “Welcome to Ark Memorial. Did you have an appointment today?”

The girl shakes her head, a quick jerky movement. Her lips are pursed, brows drawn together. Her blue eyes are boring into Clarke’s face, calculating. 

Clarke shrugs it off and compartmentalizes the nagging deja-vu feeling to analyze later. She clears her throat. “Oh. Would you like to make an appointment, then? Are you new to Ark?” Opening a drawer, Clarke pulls out a clipboard with the standard forms for a new patient. She grabs a pen from a mug and places them side by side on the flat stretch of counter space between them.

“Oh--um, I’m not making an appointment or anything, I just, uh-- sorry, but you’re Clarke Bl-Griffin, right?” The girl’s words tumble out of her mouth, like they’d been stuck. 

“Yeah, I am.” Clarke gives a cautious smile. “Have we met before? If we have, I’m sorry, I’m just really bad at remembering faces.”

The girl shakes her head again, more vigorously than before. “No, we haven’t.” She stops speaking for a moment, gaze growing sharp. Clarke raises an eyebrow.

She expects this stranger to maybe tell Clarke her name, or to say something that has to do with the hospital in any way, shape, or form.

Clarke does not expect her to burst out laughing.

The girl is nearly creased over with laughter and when she straightens, she wipes a tear away from the corner of her eye. 

Clarke hopes her confusion is visible on her face so she won’t have to verbalize it.

“Sorry! You did that eyebrow thing and it reminded me a lot of my mom for a second. I’m just really-- nervous.” Her hesitation is brief, hardly noticeable if Clarke wasn’t already a little wary of her. “I’m looking for a job and this girl in my bio class pointed me in your direction since Ark is hiring for the summer.” The girl smiles, and holds out a hand. “I’m Julia Blake.”

Clarke takes her hand and shakes it firmly. Julia’s palms are a little damp, and Clarke tries to subtly wipe her hands against her jeans. “Nice to meet you, Julia. Do you happen to know Bellamy and Octavia Blake, by any chance?” Clarke thinks that’s why Julia looks so familiar to her-- she can see a little bit of Bellamy and Octavia in her features. He had mentioned there were a few relatives on his mom’s side that they didn’t speak to often (for obvious reasons).

Julia is quick to respond, expression cool. “No, sorry. I don’t have any relatives in this town.” She smiles tightly. “Do you have any applications?”

Clarke does, in fact, know that Ark Memorial is hiring another person to sit behind the desk with her for the summer, because people tend to do stupid things during the summer and hurt themselves. The applicant pool has been small, though whether it was because of how little the position had been advertised or how little people wanted to sit behind a desk on nice, sunny days, Clarke didn’t know. 

She’s just sure that this girl isn’t actually here for a job.

Despite her suspicions, Clarke swaps out the new patient form on the clipboard for an application and slides it over to Julia. She smiles and heads over to a chair, her hand shaking a little as she fills out the form.

Clarke glances over at the clock. 6:45. Her shift ends in fifteen minutes, so she’s pretty sure she can spare a few minutes checking her phone.

_CLARKE_ : guess what!!!!!!! 

_BELLAMY_ : what do you want 

_CLARKE_ : i’m about to change your life you should sound more enthusiastic 

_BELLAMY_ : the only thing you’re doing at the moment is annoying me. sorry i’m not capable of expressing my emotions via text to your satisfaction

_CLARKE_ : what are you actually doing rn? is it playing video games with miller? i’m willing to bet three years of my life that it’s video games with miller 

_BELLAMY_ : what did you want to tell me, princess?

_CLARKE_ : HA I KNEW IT! anyway i think your long lost cousin just showed up at the hospital asking for a summer job

_BELLAMY_ : i don’t have any long lost cousins. it’s literally just me and O. we’ve been over this at least twice

_CLARKE_ : this girl looks like a perfect mix between you and octavia there’s no way this is a coincidence. her name is Julia Blake

_BELLAMY_ : pics or it didn’t happen

_CLARKE_ : i’m not going to sneak pics of a random girl that may or may not be related to u. that’s creepy. 

_BELLAMY_ : and us having this conversation right now isn’t creepy at all? you just told me a complete stranger’s name because you think we might be related

_CLARKE_ : my shift ends in fifteen. if u show up under the guise of picking me up, u can see her for urself. also, actually pick me up. i took the bus to work today

_BELLAMY_ : fine, be there in ten

_CLARKE_ : also, pls pretend like i didn’t text u and tell u to come here when u arrive thanks

Bellamy doesn’t send another text after that, and neither does Clarke. She keeps one eye on Julia filling out forms in the corner and the other on the paperwork her supervisor gave her to sort and stamp. 

Clarke panics when Julia gets up and heads toward the desk with the intention of handing in her application, because Bellamy is nowhere in sight. She smiles brightly and takes the paper, wondering what she could possibly do to stall her. Her options are limited and she’s coming up short.

Then the front doors slide open and Bellamy strides in, looking like he definitely just got off the couch after an intense gaming session with Miller. His hair is shoved beneath a beanie he no doubt stole from Miller’s precious collection, his clothes slightly wrinkled. There’s a shadow of a beard along his jaw. His eyes slide over half of the waiting room, a cursory glance, before they find hers. 

“Hey, Princess. O decided she wanted to do a family night at the apartment. Sent me here to get you on pain of death so you wouldn’t bail.” He flashes a bright smile as Clarke scowls at him for multiple reasons; first, he called her princess, and second, he implied that she was flaky in front of a new possible hire. (Also, his smile is making her feel frazzled, as it usually does as of late, and she doesn’t like it. She wants it to stop.)

“All Octavia had to do was text me and let me know and I would’ve been there. She didn’t need to send you to basically kidnap me.” Clarke frowns and ignores Bellamy’s overtly dramatic eye roll, turning back to Julia. 

“Okay! So all of your papers seem to be in order. You should get a call some time next week to set up an interview,” Clarke says, but Julia’s attention is barely on her.

She’s paled completely, staring at Bellamy like she’s seen a ghost. Also, oddly giddy, like she’s seeing the ghost of her favorite dead celebrity, or something.

Bellamy just looks confused.

Maybe the long-lost cousin theory isn’t so farfetched after all. 

“Julia?” Clarke asks, snapping the girl out of her stupor. 

“Oh, yeah! Everything’s, um, fine. See you next week!” She bolts out of the waiting room so fast that Clarke is convinced she becomes an actual _blur_.

Bellamy waits a beat after the doors close to speak. 

“Are you sure that she’s not _your_ long-lost cousin?” He asks, pulling a hand through his hair and rubbing his neck in one motion. “She looks more like you than she looks like me.”

Clarke is dumbfounded. “Are you _blind_? Julia looks exactly like you! And Octavia. Like, a perfect Blake-sibling mix.” She holds up a strand of hair. “Also, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m blonde. She is definitely not blonde.”

The doors open again and Clarke is sure they both look ridiculous with the way their necks nearly snap as they turn towards it. But it’s not Julia, just Monroe, who usually begins her shift at the desk after Clarke leaves. 

Clarke points a stern finger at Bellamy. “We will finish this conversation in the car.” She gathers her things quickly so she’s out of Monroe’s way, and so that she can avoid Monroe’s smug _I told you so_ expression she gets every time she sees Clarke and Bellamy interact. (It’s actually the expression most people who’ve been around both of them for an extended period of time get, and Clarke has elected to ignore it, for the most part.)

“Whatever you say, Princess,” Bellamy says, giving an exaggerated bow and waving his arm in the direction of the sliding doors, because they are both adults who know how to conduct themselves in public. Clarke rolls her eyes and pretends that Monroe is just coughing, not stifling a laugh.

They head out to Bellamy’s truck, a car old enough that it probably saw the extinction of the dinosaurs, and Bellamy resumes the argument. 

“Listen, Clarke, that girl has to be related to you. She has your eyes and looks exactly like you except with dark hair.”

“Are we just going to ignore the fact that she has your hair _and_ chin dimple _and_ her name is Julia Blake?”

“What does her name being Julia have anything to do with it?”

“I was talking about the Blake part, but you’re always telling me that story about Augustus having a sister when you get drunk and want to talk about Octavia’s birth. Your closet history fascination had to have come from _somewhere_. Didn’t Augustus have a daughter named Julia?” Clarke waits for a second, expecting Bellamy to fire something back, but instead he’s silent. 

When she looks at him, he’s turned to look at her with an inscrutable expression on his face. The space between them feels heavy. 

Then Clarke’s phone vibrates with a text from Octavia _actually_ inviting her to a family night at the apartment, and the moment, if there was one at all, is shattered.

***

When Bellamy gets home from his shift at the bar, it’s nearly two am. Clarke knows this because she’s been lying on the couch in the Blake’s apartment for the better part of the afternoon, surrounded by review materials for their impending finals. Over the soft hum of the television, Clarke can hear Octavia running the shower.

“Don’t you have your own dorm?” He asks, throwing his keys in a tiny decorative bowl Octavia made in elementary school. Bellamy’s eyes scan over the coffee table, covered in textbooks, note sheets, and fancy markers. “More specifically, a dorm in close proximity to a library?”

Clarke thinks about responding, but this is the first break she’s had from studying organic chemistry in three hours and the idea of sinking into the couch and never getting up is far more appealing. 

The shower in the background cuts off abruptly. Octavia claims that showering helps her think, and since thinking was what she needed to be doing, taking a shower at two am was perfectly justified. Clarke couldn’t follow that line of logic, but it was Octavia, so.

“What’s with all the markers and colored pencils?” Bellamy asks, kicking off his shoes. Clarke groans into a pillow.

“Octavia decided to make a studyspo tumblr,” she says, voice muffled.

“A study _what_?”

Clarke lifts her head, the miniscule effort feeling herculean beneath her exhaustion. Bellamy has his usual infuriating smirk on his face and she almost doesn’t want to explain it.

“A study inspiration blog. People make their notes look pretty and encourage good study habits. They’re really good at making you want to study for about ten minutes before you realize that nothing about studying is fun.”

“And Octavia enlisted you for this because…?”

“My notes look prettier than hers.”

Bellamy laughs at that, disappearing into the kitchen. Clarke can hear him rummaging around in the fridge for a late night snack.

Octavia walks back into the living room, shoving Clarke’s legs off the couch and sliding into her spot. Her hair is tied in a damp knot on top of her head, her face looking fresh and shiny.

“So!” Octavia begins, clapping her hands together. “Are you ready to keep going?” Clarke groans again.

“I never want to pick up another highlighter for as long as I live. I’m not even exaggerating. Studying for this long is actually sucking my soul from my body. Soon there will be nothing left, and you’ll have to tell my mother what happened to me.”

Octavia rolls her eyes. “ _Honestly,_ you’d think I had a gun to your head or something when I asked you to do this. You jumped at the chance to draw anatomically correct hearts in your notes. And they were about organic chemistry! Because you’re a _nerd._ ”

Clarke sticks her tongue out because she’s fresh out of good comebacks to combat Octavia’s freshly showered and rejuvenated state. Sometimes you just have to accept your losses as they come. 

She decides to change the subject.

“Hey O, do you happen to have a cousin named Julia Blake? On your mom's side, maybe?” She asks, mostly because it’s the first thing that popped into her head and it’s been gnawing at her all week. Julia hasn’t come back in for an interview yet, but Clarke took a peek at her boss’ files and knew that a planned meeting was coming up soon.

Octavia just shrugs, using multiple markers to make a complicated-looking key for her planner. She leaves them uncapped on the table, and Clarke caps them again so they won’t dry out. “Honestly, I have no clue. Don’t really interact with that side much. Haven’t had much interest to, either. Why?”

“Because I’m at least 90 percent sure that a girl who came into Ark looking for a job is your long-lost relative.”

Octavia looks up, vaguely interested. “Did you ask her?”

“Yeah, and she said she didn’t have family in this town. But she knew who I was, and definitely freaked out when she saw Bellamy, and not in the way people usually do when they think Bellamy is semi-attractive.” Octavia scrunches up her nose, mildly disgusted by the mere thought of people checking out her brother. “I think she looks way too much like both of you for it to be coincidental.”

“I’m not just _semi-attractive_ , Princess,” Bellamy calls from the kitchen, sounding offended. He appears in the doorway, three grilled cheese sandwiches stacked on a plate in front of him. He’s munching on one when he speaks again. “I’m _incredibly attractive_. Also, you conveniently left out the part where that girl definitely looks like she could be _your_ cousin, not ours.”

Clarke gives him a flat look. “I’m glad I haven’t wounded your fragile ego.”

“How could you both think this girl looks like the other? That’s impossible.” Octavia says, looking between them as if something was clicking into place. “Now I obviously have to see her. She could be a real life version of that website that takes two pictures and smashes them together to show you what your future kid could look like. I could be her hypothetical aunt, and she’ll love me because I’m awesome.”

Bellamy stares at Octavia. “I can't believe that was your first thought.” Octavia sticks her tongue out at him.

Clarke laughs off the incredibly heavy feeling of discomfort that overcomes her and searches for a way to describe the way Julia looks, words for the familiarity and the strange sense of deja-vu. “Imagine that you and Bellamy were like, morphed together. And the result was a girl around our age with Bellamy’s hair, your complexion, his dimples, and your eyes, but a shade lighter. More bluish.”

“Nope,” Bellamy butts in, speaking around a mouthful of grilled cheese. “More like another version of Clarke with dark hair, same eyes, and a darker complexion.”

Octavia is looking at both of them now, a calculating look in her eye. She gets up and snags a sandwich from Bellamy’s plate. “Clarke, text me the next time this girl shows up at the hospital during your shift. I’ll stop by and pretend you left something at the apartment or whatever.” She stops to take a bite from the sandwich. “And maybe take a few pictures for evidence. I’m going to Sherlock the hell out of this shit.”

Clarke just nods and falls back onto a pillow.

***

_CLARKE_ : hey octavia your chance to do some super sleuthing has arrived

_OCTAVIA_ : julia’s there??? in the flesh??? i get to meet my niece???

_CLARKE_ : not your niece, but yes. she got the job last week but she’s only starting today. i’m supposed to be training her or st but she acts really weird every time i talk to her?? idk man it’s slow right now and i’ve chosen to let it go so we’re both sitting and doing nothing 

_OCTAVIA_ : i’m already on my way. should i bring my selfie stick? i’m going to bring my selfie stick

_CLARKE_ : please don’t be creepy octavia

_OCTAVIA_ : we’ve surpassed creepy and just have to accept that this is how we’ve chosen to live our lives now

***

Octavia breezes in Ark Memorial like she owns the place. She has the kind of presence that commands the attention of anyone in the room. As such, Clarke notices when she arrives almost immediately. So does Julia, who actually turns a shade of gray. Clarke would worry more if they weren’t conveniently working in a hospital. 

“Clarke!” Octavia calls, striding up to the desk. The waiting room is desolate, a sign Clarke personally finds reassuring. “You left your sweatshirt in the apartment and I figured this was the best time to find you.” She pulls a sweatshirt from her bag and pretty much throws it at Clarke’s face. She barely catches it in time before the zipper connects with her jaw. 

Clarke takes one look at the sweatshirt and knows it’s not hers, but Bellamy’s, and is immediately annoyed with Octavia for giving it to her, because now she’ll have to give it back. 

“This is Bellamy’s,” she tries weakly, knowing that Octavia has most definitely fabricated an entire story for this encounter. 

Octavia gives a practiced shrug. “You’ve been wearing it more than he has. I’m sure he can live without it.” She doesn’t even wait for Clarke’s response before turning a million watt smile on Julia. The expression on her face would be comical if Clarke wasn’t so sure she was actually terrified.

“Hi! I’m Octavia. Are you Clarke’s new coworker?”

Julia nods, suddenly rendered mute. Her eyes are open wide, bright like a kid's on Christmas. Clarke thinks briefly that maybe Octavia _is_ the cool aunt of her futuristic child, but throws that thought away immediately. She doesn’t need the idea of her and Bellamy’s future children knocking around in her head, especially when they don’t even really _like_ each other. 

(Clarke will take this lie to her grave.)

“Cool! I hope this job isn’t too mind-numbing for you. God knows I’d hate to have to spend all of my time here, but Clarke has a weird idea of fun, so.” If possible, Octavia’s smile grows wider. Clarke worries her mouth might split at the corners and Octavia will have to spend the rest of her life embracing a career impersonating The Joker.

Julia manages a soft chuckle. “Just a little mind-numbing. Pays well, though.”

“Amen to that,” Clarke mutters, stuffing the sweatshirt in her purse lying on the floor by her feet. Bellamy won’t believe that she didn’t take it on purpose, because he likes to be an asshole about things that don’t matter. 90% of their current relationship is them fighting about things that don’t make any sense at all.

“Anyway, Julia, are you new in town? Haven’t really seen you around before.” _Way to be subtle,_ Clarke thinks, hiding her face so no one can see the embarrassment.

Julia seems to take the question in stride. “Yeah, I just transferred to the university this past semester and needed some way to keep myself afloat this summer.”

Clarke’s not really sure how the next few things happen, but all of the sudden Octavia is inviting Julia to a family night at the apartment, swapping numbers, and actually pulling out the goddamn selfie stick under the guise of snapping a contact picture. Clarke is equal parts terrified and awed, and this encounter only further cements the idea that Octavia exists on a plane of reality no one else could ever dream to reach.

She leaves right after that, claiming she has a lunch date with Lincoln, and Clarke is too shell-shocked to do much about it.

***

_CLARKE_ : how the hell did you do that??? are you magic??? did you hypnotize her???

_OCTAVIA_ : i can’t reveal my secrets to mere mortals, clarke

_CLARKE_ : seriously, octavia!!! how she didn’t immediately demand a restraining order against you is beyond me 

_OCTAVIA_ : please, my niece would never get a restraining order against her super cool aunt. 

_OCTAVIA_ : maybe bellamy tho

_CLARKE_ : oh my god you can’t be serious about this niece thing 

_OCTAVIA_ : see you at dinner on thursday!!!! bye!!!!!

***

Clarke arrives at the Blake apartment just after six, having stopped at her dorm after work to take a quick shower and change. The radio is playing softly, stuck on the Top 40 station. Octavia loves to listen to it while she cooks, and will maim anyone with whatever cooking utensil she is currently wielding if someone dares to change it. (Clarke learned this one by watching Bellamy, who clearly had a death wish.)

Miller and Monty are playing video games on the couch, sitting close enough that Clarke has smother her smirk behind her palm. Raven is picking from a box of Red Hot candies, periodically throwing one at the back of a loudly complaining Jasper’s head and cackling while she does it.

“I’m here!” She calls out, toeing off her sandals and basking in the air conditioning. Her dorm is not terrible, but one thing it lacks is decent AC. It’s not a big deal in the winter, but during the summer session Clarke considers living in her roommate’s mini fridge. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

The others greet her absently, and Raven tosses a Red Hot at her. Clarke smiles fondly at them.

“Dinner will be ready in ten minutes!” Octavia calls back.

Clarke makes herself comfortable on the couch and is watching Monty joyfully and methodically destroy Miller in Mario Kart when Bellamy gets in, wearing his professional teacher clothes after holding office hours. 

He pauses in the doorway. “Do none of you have your own place to live? At what point should I start charging rent?”

“Are you going to pretend like you weren’t in the group chat when Octavia invited us all?” Miller responds, hardly breaking eye-contact with the tv screen.

Bellamy looks mortally wounded. "I can't believe you've turned on me like this."

Miller snorts and gracefully accepts his crushing defeat in Mario Kart from Monty. Bellamy breezes through the living room and down the hall, the sound of his bedroom door shutting echoing back to them.

Then there’s another knock on the door. 

There’s a moment of hesitation as everyone in the room counts off all of the people most likely to be at a dinner, and realizes that everyone is already there and accounted for. No more guests are expected, because if Clarke is being honest, they don’t have any other friends.

It’s when Octavia rushes to answer the door, wielding a wooden spoon in one hand and an apron in the other, that Clarke remembers Julia receiving an invite to a family dinner earlier in the week. 

Julia walks into the apartment, is briefly ambushed by Octavia’s boundless enthusiasm, and gives a small wave to everyone before introducing herself.

Raven throws a Red Hot at her in greeting. Jasper yells back a hello that could wake the dead. Monty follows with a slightly more subdued hi, and Miller nods. Clarke gives a smile and a slightly apologetic glance, because her friends are an acquired taste.

Her eyes are opened a little too wide, Clarke notes, and as Julia takes a seat on the couch beside Clarke, she spends an inordinate amount of time staring at everyone. Clarke can’t give a name to the expression on her face beyond awestruck, and that doesn’t even feel like an accurate descriptor. If anything, Julia looks at the group of them like they’re the furthest thing from strangers.

Bellamy returns wearing shorts and t-shirt, hair ruffled from the slicked-back way he wears it to pretend like he’s an old on-the-verge-of-balding historian, which is his true and final form. When he notices Julia, his shock is only interrupted so he can level a glare at Octavia that promises retribution. Raven tosses another Red Hot. It pings off the picture frame hanging on the wall beside Bellamy’s head.

They manage to get all the way through dinner with little incident, if Clarke ignores Raven’s white-hot stare (which she deserves, because she hasn’t been able to relax since Julia showed up and Octavia sent a text to both her and Bellamy that read _so how do u guys feel about the daughter u created together._ Neither of them responded.) and Octavia’s occasional manic giggles. 

It’s only when the door shuts after Julia leaves early that the tension finally breaks. 

They wait until they hear the elevator ping down the hall, and then Bellamy whirls on Octavia. 

“What the hell, O? You invited her to dinner? We don’t even know her!” Despite himself, Bellamy glances back at the door, and keeps his voice just above a whisper.

Octavia grins from her position on the couch, looking every bit like the cat that got the canary. “False! She’s Clarke’s coworker. Also, your daughter.”

“Jesus Christ,” Clarke mutters, and then speaks louder. “She’s just my coworker. I thought she looked like the two of you, sue me.”

Raven sits in the recliner, as the only one besides Bellamy allowed to sit in it because she likes the elevation for her bad leg. She gives them an unimpressed look. “So what you’re saying,” she begins, “is that in the future, Bellamy and Clarke have a kid, and that their kid is pulling a _Back to the Future_ schtick by masquerading as Clarke’s coworker.”

Monty and Miller have started up another round of Mario Kart, which Monty pauses to add “To be honest, that sounds totally plausible.”

Miller nods in agreement. “It only makes sense that their future kid would be into the same weird shit that they are. This could be a future kink, or something.”

Bellamy’s jaw has fallen halfway to the ground, and Clarke flops onto the couch beside Octavia to bury her reddening face in a pillow. She needs new friends, asap.

“I can’t believe you’re all just... _running_ with this,” Bellamy says, voice strangled. Clarke’s not sure what kind of expression is on his face, because she’s too busy trying to smother herself with an Ikea couch cushion. She’s halfway there when Octavia forcibly pulls it away, probably because she doesn’t want to be responsible for a death in her apartment. Way too messy. 

“You two are so melodramatic. It’s definitely not as big of a deal as you’re making it out to be,” Octavia says, taking additional steps to remove all pillows from Clarke’s general vicinity. 

 

Clarke lifts her head up and levels a glare at Octavia. For most of her friendship with the Blakes, she’d been operating under the assumption that her crush on Bellamy wasn't that obvious. He clearly didn't feel anything for her, so the plan was to just wait for the weird feelings to peter out, and Clarke could get on with her life. 

However, the way Octavia has been acting with this whole future child thing makes Clarke wonder if the jig is up.

If it is, Clarke really has to question Octavia’s methods.

 

She spends the rest of the night overtly avoiding eye contact with everyone. Raven aims precisely seventeen Red Hots at the back of her head.

**Author's Note:**

> this was intended to be a complete one-shot. essentially, i started writing this almost a year ago but ran out of steam. i'm posting it because i'm hoping i'll get some of my motivation back if it's on some kind of public forum. who knows! anyway, if you want to talk to me about it, i'm sixturns on tumblr!


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